Conflicting Bloods
by ErisedHallows
Summary: Draco is a classic case of "Conflicted Blood" - where his head tells him one thing, but his heart follows another. Where previously Draco has been so sure of his thoughts and blood status opinions, a certain presence doubts all that he's ever known, thought and lived. (This story is equally about Draco as a person as it is Dramione action!)
1. Chapter 1: The Unexpected Saviour

**PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING: **

**Sections written in NON-bold (i.e.**this**) ARE WRITTEN FROM HERMIONE'S PERSPECTIVE.**

**Sections written in BOLD (i.e. this) ARE WRITTEN FROM DRACO'S PERSPECTIVE**

/*/*/* **MARKS A CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE **

'RON! HARRY!' screamed Hermione, but it was no use, what little she could see of her two best friends was slipping away from her, beneath thousands of frantic screams and shoving.

'RON!' she continued, as she was pushed further and further away from them. The hint of panic in her voice was growing stronger.

Sensing that her cries were now a lost cause, she allowed herself to be carried along with the crowd. She tried to look over the thousands of heads all around her, searching for some hint of hope.

BANG! To her left, a sound not unlike a gunshot sounded, causing many to duck. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed purple and green sparks ascending from the air. She took a sharp left, causing her to stray away from the line of people she had been following and now she found her self not with the crowd, but against them, as she struggled to push herself through the hundreds of bodies running adjacently to her.

_Green sparks mean danger. Dark Magic. _She thought. There was no doubt in her mind that these spells were descendants of the dark arts. She wasn't sure about the purple ones.

BANG! Now purely green sparks erupted in front of her eyes and she shot round again, trying to find some sort of escape.

The stampede of hurried feet and frequent cries were pounding in her ears, and with that, one last green spark surfaced. Barely recognizing the agony in her left leg, she was blanketed in darkness, and the pain ebbed away.

/*/*/*

**He appeared at the exact spot at the edge of the forest, where he could see only a few metres away where the plan had been carried out successfully. He allowed a small smile to form across his lips. Cries and screams surrounded him.**

**_They Deserve It_. He thought bitterly. _They'll understand soon enough._**

**He edged from the safety of the forest tree's shadow to join the edge of the crowds. He looked over the thousands of heads above him, and he could see in the distance the plan formulating, as it should be. It was so clever, so detailed, so _mesmerizing_. As to the panicked eye, a witch or wizard wouldn't notice the plan at all. Only someone looking, observing, participating could detect it. The intricate planning enthralled him, the way it ran so smoothly. How detailed it was. How clever it was. How they were forming this allegiance slowly, but carefully. It was like a puzzle: everything slotted where it should. There were no exceptions, there was no room for error, or self doubt.**

**He continued into the crowds, the movements of each member had been discussed previously. They had decided although the easiest option, circling the outsides of the crowds would be most dangerous, most detectable. So he headed on into the crowds, wand grasped eagerly in his hand. He passed a few bodies, who lay lifeless on the earthy floor.**

**W_hy do they deserve this_? He heard himself think, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't afford to think like that. Now and again waves of self-doubt and guilt passed through him, he had been working on trying to block the thoughts out. He had even turned to occlumency before now. He was working on it, he told himself. They'd understand. But at times he just couldn't help it. He couldn't help but let the bad thoughts in, the guilt in.**

**In a bid to distract his guilty thoughts, he looked up again above the crowds, trying to block out the frantic cries. Stage two was complete. He glanced at his wrist: his gold watch told him he was making good time. He was clutching not his own wand: but someone else's, which had been bewitched to not be detectable by the ministry. He had been holding onto it so tightly that marks from the woodwork had become engraved in his palms. He had only used it a few times.**

**_Only for self-defense_. He thought bitterly. He hadn't yet used it for attack…he couldn't bring himself to do so. _No matter, no matter. Plenty of time to work on this…my time will come soon enough. _He reassured himself.**

**He continued to edge further into the mass of people. He needed to break through these doubts, these feelings: his actions would be for the greater good, in the end.**

**He was now about half way through the crowd. Half way to succeeding in his mission. And then, out of the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed a brown uniform.**

**_Ministry fools_. _But no worry, I've planned ahead of these idiots. _He thought, remembering the drill.**

**_They have yet to see the way forward_. He told himself, remembering the parting words of the allegiance and with that, he took a left, creating a small detour. It shouldn't lose him that much time. He was ahead of schedule.**

**Now, he was running adjacent to the crowds, and it was taking its toll. Thousand of bodies were pounding in on him, and he was struggling to move in a straight line. He took a sharp left, desperate to fall back onto the path.**

**And then he suddenly wasn't aware of the cries around him, the lifeless bodies beneath him, the time ticking by, the mission he had to succeed in, the mission he needed to prove himself, and the mission that was everything. He was only aware of the limp, tangled body that was now directly in his eye line and the gleaming, ruby coloured blood that was flowing from its leg. He was rooted to the spot.**

**This was surely one of his guilty, self-doubt lapses, this is what he had been working on, _and this_ is the type of thing he should be able to control. But he couldn't. He couldn't control anything. He looked around at his surroundings, and it was as if he was a different person: and he could see it now for what it really was: corruption. He looked around at the people in masks killing the innocent lives.**

**_"They will thank us. They are wrong."_ The words played havoc in his mind, but the more he replayed them in his head the more he felt the urge to block them out. He wasn't listening anymore. He wasn't there any more. It was just he and the lifeless body, trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place. But there was no escape. There was no hiding. He had options, yes, two of them. But whichever one he chose would have consequences. It was a case of comparing the options: weighing them out. But he didn't have time. But he did have two choices. And that's when he picked up the body from the earthy floor and lifted it to his chest, to carry it in his arms. And he ran. And ran. His destination had now changed, and he was running to the edge of the forest, opposite to where he had started. It was heavy in his arms now, and he could feel the warm blood seeping through his shirt. He didn't dare glance over at the checkpoint; he couldn't even bare think about it. His heart was thumping so fast he thought it might explode; his breathing was shallow but panicked. It was even harder to push through the crowds now, but he eventually reached the edge of the forest and fell out onto the mud. He placed the body in the shadow of the trees.**

**_Now what? _He heard a voice in his head ask. But he didn't know the answer. He always knew the answers to everything, but this…he was unprepared. He could just go, pretend this had never happened. That was the easiest option.**

**_But was it the right one?_**

**If he left them here, they would surely be picked up in the aftermath…but he had heard that there were plans for this involving the alliance too. It might not be safe. He'd saved them from even more harm of thousands of people crushing them. But they were loosing a lot of blood. Too much. Now safe in the shadow of the trees, he glanced quickly at the wound; blood was seeping out of it and fast, the edges seemed scorned and black.**

**He felt sick. Not at the sight, but at what had caused it. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning. He looked at his hands: they were blood-stained and weathered.**

**He couldn't take much more of this. He composed himself enough to look out over the crowd; his brain told him he was searching for something…he just wasn't sure what. His eyes darted over to the check-point…stage three must be complete now; he couldn't see any more green sparks flying overhead…and he could see a couple of hooded figures disapparating into the trees. He guessed he had five minutes until his call, as he said before, there was no room for error. If he missed his calling, the plan could be ruined. But the problem was he could be here forever searching for them. There were thousands of people here. They might already be dead.**

**He suddenly remembered the body next to him, and he lurched back into the rapid search for this someone. He continued searching for what seemed like hours, he checked his watch…**

**_Two Minutes._**

**This wasn't going to work: he had no hope of finding them in crowds this dense. He glanced back at the body, now safely hidden under the shadows of the trees. He didn't know what was planned for when the scene was deserted, he hoped they wouldn't search that thoroughly. He made his decision so suddenly he wasn't quite sure how he did it. He looked back at the body one last time before leaping back into the crowd.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Aftermath (1)

Hermione's room had been cast in a golden sunlight, setting the room up in an orange tinge. The sun was pouring through a crack in the curtains as they flapped gently against the open window. She smiled and set her head back against the pillows. Her leg was aching slightly now, but nothing compared to what it had been like on previous nights. She looked at the flowers resting at the end of her bed and the many cards surrounding them. She couldn't help but notice with how they blended in with the room's décor.

"Hermione?" a small voice whispered as the door creaked open, revealing the gentle hum of the St Mungo's corridors. She turned to see Ron's head peeping round the door, looking anxious. "Are you sleeping?" he continued.

She shook her head and he edged gently into the room. He took the seat nearest to her and asked her how she was feeling; she could see how his furrow was creased with nervousness.

"Okay" she managed to croak out. "My leg feels a lot better today." She forced out a smile, and she saw Ron suddenly relax a little. She pushed herself up on her elbows, as to catch a bit more of the breeze from the window.

"Lovely weather" she went on. Ron gave a sympathetic smile, "yeah…" he paused. "Fred and George 'been driving me mad at home…they've set up a water-bomb device above the front door, and it catches me out every time…" Hermione gave a small laugh. That's all she could manage. Ron however, seemed to be talking and talking.

"They'll be round soon, to see how you are, and Harry…well, Harry sooner than you think, he's just gone off into Diagon Alley, to pick you up those books you wanted, so I thought I'd come and see how you were doing…" he trailed off, obviously sensing her tiredness.

"I…we…can come back tomorrow? You seem knackered."

"No, don't go", she turned towards him…"I'm sorry…I've…I've just been trying to remember what happened again today."

"Hermione…the doctor said you shouldn't be over-thinking about it…" she heard a slight whine in his deep voice.

"But it's driving me mad!" she lurched forwards a little, but instantly fell back, wincing. "No…I'm fine" she reassured him, responding to Ron's concerned face.

Ron paused, obviously not knowing what to say next "…well…have you remembered anything?"

Hermione shook her head. All she could remember from that night was seeing, only for a second, a pair of greyish-blue eyes staring down at her. It annoyed her greatly. Hermione hated missing a trick, not knowing something important, not being able to re-count her footsteps. That's why she loved books. The facts were already there. She could refer back to them whenever she needed. What annoyed her even more, however was not knowing who's greyish-blue eyes they were. The annoying thing was what that Hermione thought she recognized them from somewhere…she hadn't told Harry or Ron, or anyone this…she wasn't entirely sure why, she just knew that the thought unnerved her.

At that moment a knock sounded from the door, and Harry's scruffy black hair appeared from around the door.

"Hey!" he said, shutting out the noise from the bustling corridors. "Look what I've got!"

He placed a handful of books on her blankets. She grinned. She'd wanted something to take her mind of the recent events.

"Great!' she said, and she didn't even force the smile. She was generally thrilled.

"See, there's the old Hermione back" Ron said, "happier to see some old books than her best friends!" The trio erupted into giggles, and Hermione felt like she hadn't laughed as easily as she just had for weeks. It was a good feeling.

"You're looking a lot better," Harry chipped in.

"It's those books that have done it!" said Ron. But his face contorted from a cheeky grin into a more serious one.

"But, Hermione has been trying to remember what happened again." He cast a disapproving eye over her.

"I didn't remember anything." She answered before Harry even had a chance to ask. "Just the eyes still." Even the thought of it sent shivers down her spine.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the Keezle bugs eating the pollen from the flowers, before spitting it out again, obviously appalled by the taste. Yet they never learnt, because after spitting it out and throwing a tantrum (loud buzzing noises) they would then taste the pollen again.

"Remind me again what happened at the Quidditch Word Cup?" Hermione hadn't really meant to ask; she had just been thinking it, and she broke the silence surrounding them.

Ron and Harry exchanged nervous looks.

"Go from when we split up. I'm sure I'm missing something." She had already made them recount it many times, but she couldn't help but feel like there was something missing.

"Well, after you disappeared into the crowd, we tried to come after you – but it was so busy – and then Mr. Weasley found us – and we said that we'd lost you –" Harry started,

"-So he said that we should try and find the others – Ginny, Fred and George, I mean – and we did – they weren't far from the tent, they were with Cedric and his Dad. Bill, Charlie and Percy were off helping the Ministry." He finished.

"And then we set about trying to find you – me, Fred, Harry and Dad – George stayed with Ginny and Dad told them to catch a port key back with Amos and Cedric – and we were searching everywhere, but we couldn't find you." Ron chipped in.

Hermione took the moments silence to analyze what she'd heard. So far, everything made sense.

"…And we didn't find you until, well, the scene had cleared – I mean, the people in the masks had gone. There were still crowds there but not so many now…so we were searching through the trees because we'd searched everywhere on the actual campsite and Dad found you – in a clearing – he went straight over to you- said you were out of it, and that you were in a bad way – he told Fred to carry you – and we ran back through the forest – to the new port key – which Amos had made…and…" his voice trailed off.

"Do you think someone put me there…in the trees I mean?"

"What do you mean?" Ron said.

"Maybe, someone moved me from the campsite from being crushed. I remember seeing the sparks, and being hit, but I don't remember where I fell. But I was still calling for you at that point…so I would have been in the main crowds. If I'm right, and someone did move me – why would someone save me…but then not show him or herself…or tell you where I was? It doesn't make sense." The thought had once again angered her. She hated being so in the dark.

Harry gave a sympathetic smile and said "well, at least your safe now…ey'?"

"Exactly" Ron said, backing him up. "'Mione, don't get hooked up on it…"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She was too busy thinking about that night. She knew she had seen the grey eyes somewhere in between being cursed and being saved…she just didn't know when. She had come to the conclusion that the grey eyes most likely belonged to the person who found her. And now she had the idea that someone might have moved her into the forest to contemplate with.

"The person, who saved me I mean, must've not wanted to be detected, or recognised at least. Which suggests that-"

"Hermione, we've been over this a thousand times already!" Ron interrupted.

She didn't reply. She'd have to think about it on her own.

She saw their anxious looks - "I'm fine!" she told them, and she picked up _Mathilda Maybel's Guide to Multicoloured Magic _in a bid to look like she had pushed the thoughts from that night to the back of her mind.

"Well, if you say so I guess…" Ron said. "We best be off Harry, Mum will go mental if we miss the car again…" He stood up, as did Harry and they said their goodbyes. Hermione thanked them kindly, and responded with 'great!' to the news that the whole Weasley family would be visiting tomorrow. She had to admit, Fred and George did cheer the place up dramatically, but really all she wanted was to be able to mull over the details of that night again.

The door shut and once again she was plunged into the all-too-familiar silence. The room, however comfortable, seemed eerie now with the voices of Harry and Ron gone.

She leant back against the pillows. The sun had set now and the room had turned to a light shade of crimson. The crack in the curtains now cast a shadow across her face, and nothing more. She glanced down at the book in her hands. She'd asked Harry to pick this up especially for her; there had been few things she wanted to clear up in her mind. She opened the book for the first time, and the smell of newly printed pages wafted around her. She scanned the index until she found _'Hexes and Spells: know your colours!' _She flicked to the appropriate page. She hadn't told Ron or Harry this, but she was interested to know what the purple sparks had been at the World Cup. The nurses at St Mungo's told her that her leg had been hit with a burning hex and she seemed to remember seeing green sparks before she blacked out. She had assumed that the burning hex would have emitted orange sparks and therefore couldn't have been a burning hex, but now she wasn't so sure. She knew that green sparks were more often than not, a sign of the dark arts, but she also knew it was common knowledge that burning hexes, or anything to do with fire, most commonly burned a brilliant orange when performed. She decided to look up the green sparks first; she needed to re-assure herself she was right about the essence of the dark arts within them.

'_Green hexes are most commonly known to be associated with the dark arts…' _she read.

_I already know that! _She thought, angrily. _'…But it is widely unknown that hexes that mean to penetrate the skin often originate from a green spark, it is often a misconception, that burning hexes, such as the __**adolebitere **__spell, meaning to burn through, originate from an orange core, when in fact they are green. Sir Terrance Goldy-Gon of France, when in battle with a Banshee discovered this. He discovered that there was a subtle difference in the colour of spells originated from the dark arts, to that of burning spells. (For a full colour chart; see page 543.) However, not all burning spells emit green sparks, under close observation it was discovered that hexes that mean to…'_

Hermione slammed the book shut. She wasn't sure why but she was annoyed at what the book was saying. She was now sure that the _**adolebitere **_spell was what she had been hit with. But she was uncertain of the origins of the other green sparks…there must have been burning hexes and dark arts spells flying around the place. All she called recall about green hexes were that she knew that when Harry dreamt about the night his parents died, a green flash often lit the room. The thought unsettled her slightly. Her brain was so packed with thoughts and theories that she couldn't take anymore.

She decided upon looking up the purple sparks tomorrow, she felt tired and restless now. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm glow of the setting sun on her face. She heard a light shuffling and looked up to see a rather plump nurse in a purple uniform bustling into the room.

"Books again, Miss Granger?" she chortled, looking down at the spread of books.

"Never in all me years I've been here, and that's thirteen years and counting may I add, have I ever seen a patient who reads so much!"

Hermione gave a faint smile. The nurse checked Hermione over, as she usually did every night, gave her the vile tasting medicine, that even after a week of being here, she still wasn't used to, and with a whip of her wand the window closed and the curtains shut, giving a slight shiver as they did so. She also removed the books from her bed with her wand, and they piled themselves neatly on a shelf on the opposite wall. Hermione placed the hexes book she had just read on the bedside table next to her.

"Everything's in order then I think," said the Nurse, glancing an eye across the now dimly lit room. "Got a new patient in next door who I must go and check on – nasty pelt of bulging boils – rather hideous. Good night Miss Granger." And with that she bustled out the door, leaving Hermione alone once again.

She turned over so that she was now facing the curtains and shut her eyes, willing sleep. For the past few nights she had been kept awake; haunted by the greyish-blue eyes that she had seen. She was sure tonight would be no exception.


	3. Chapter 3: The Aftermath (2)

**Draco had been sat at his desk for the past hour, fiddling absent-mindedly with the planet model perched precariously on the edge. It was now dark outside and his room was filled with streak of moonlight. He got up and walked over the window; the dark sky was filled with bright stars and it cast a dark blanket over the magnificent lawn below. He was restless. Restless about what he had done at the World Cup, or restless about what was to come he wasn't sure. He paced back to his bed and sat tentatively on the edge, stroking the soft grey duvet. His mind was racing. In fact, it hadn't stopped racing since they got back. He glanced at the clock: 3:08am. He sighed. He was exhausted, but yet he couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her mangled body lying on the floor.**

**All he knew was that he had saved Hermione Granger, that filthy little Mudblood at the Quidditch World Cup four days ago. He had found her, deep in the heart of the crowd and he had lifted her into his arms and moved her into the safety of the clearing. He had felt her filthy blood seep into his shirt. He knew he had missed the apparation point, meaning he messed up his part of the plan.**

**It was true that his father hadn't said much about the World Cup…nothing at all in fact. Draco was sure he was building up to it. He was just waiting for the right time. It frustrated him that even with all this time he had spent away, locked up in his room, he hadn't even thought of a plan to tell his father. He wasn't aware he had been sitting there for almost two hours; he couldn't even remember what he had been thinking about. It was most frustrating. He got up and walked over the mirror opposite his bed. A pale, gaunt faced stared back at him. He looked weak and dirty and his eyes were blank and mysterious. He could see the wall behind him reflected in the mirror; it was half plush green padding with silvery snake shapes embroidered across it. A Slytherin flag was pinned to the right hand side of his bed. "_Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness" _was written in silver italics on the left side.**

**_Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness. _He repeated the line in his head. _Greatness. _He moved from the mirror, the word alive in his mind. He needed to get back to occlumency, as soon as possible. He had let his mind slip into this negative way of thinking again…she had made sure of that. He buried his head in his hands. _He was so tired. _He could hear the clock ticking in his ear, and from down the corridor he could hear movement. _I just need to get back into _occlumency._ Then it will be over. It was a mental lapse. _But somehow he didn't seem convinced. All he knew was that these mood swings were more violent than ever before. And it scared him. Before, they had been bad – but now…it was on a completely different scale, now came images that he had never seen before; voices he had never heard before.**

**There was suddenly a loud _pop _and a writhing, pinky-coloured house elf appeared in the corner nearest the door. The disgusting creature stood, his legs shaking in the revolting old cloth it had adopted. It's great eyes focused on Draco and it began to speak shakily:**

**"Master Lucius re-requests y-you joins h-him in the d-d-d-dining room." He took a breath and then spoke again, more confidently this time: "you are to be w-washed and dressed in half an hour." Draco scowled at the beast and nodded curtly and the elf gave a small squeak before vanishing. Draco had never liked house elves, yes they seemed good servants, but they were so…abnormal…dirty. Seeing as Draco hadn't been out of his bedroom for the past however many days, he seemed quite relaxed he thought. He wasn't quite sure what he was meeting his father for: but he had a few ideas. And these 'ideas' scared him. But yet, his brain refused to let him plan what he was going to say: he just couldn't do it.**

**He showered quickly and pulled on a dark grey suit. He looked in the mirror: he looked smarter, yes, but his eyes still vacant, as they had been before. He drew the curtains: the sun was just starting to rise in the distance, casting the gardens below in a golden light. He could see a few peacocks strutting below: their blue feathers gleaming in the sun. 6:47. He was early, but he started towards the door regardless. The hallway was bleak and empty: the row of doors in line with his own remained shut and quiet. At the end of the corridor, just above the staircase he could see that the doors onto the balcony had been opened and the pure white curtains blew in the gale. He slowly walked over to them and stood with his chest resting against the railings. A cool breeze lapped across his face as he breathed in deeply, inhaling the salty air. He stood for what must have been ten minutes, looking out over down the long driveway and out to the gate that sealed the manor. He tore himself away and retreated back to the landing. He paused slightly before beginning to descend down the stairs. They were white marble, much like the rest of the house and they cast a dull echo as his shoes slammed against them. He could hear the clanging of cutlery from his left, coming from the dining room and the hushed workings of the house elves from the dungeons below. He headed towards the dining room and as he approached he distinguished two voices.**

**"…You mustn't be too hard on him, Lucius-" he head his mother's hushed whispers.**

**"The boy needs discipline! Imagine what could have happened, Narcissa, just imagine it – if the Dark Lord had already arisen, what then?" his father replied, a hint of arrogance in his hoarse voice.**

**"But he hasn't, has he! Lucius, promise me you wont be too hard on him…he's just a boy!"**

**Draco wasn't quite sure what compelled him to open the door at that moment. In a matter of seconds he was standing in the dining room facing the pale faces of his mother and father, who were sat awkwardly at the other end of the long daunting table. His father, his blonde hair sleeked tidily back and dressed in dark grey robes, sat at the very end, with his mother, pale and nervous as ever, sat timidly to his left. He could already see the fear spreading in her grey eyes.**

**"Draco…" his father broke the cold silence. He gestured to the seat next to him, and Draco wasn't quite sure how his legs had managed to move for the numbness he was now succumbing to.**

**He looked up briefly to face his mother, but she wasn't watching, her eyes instead bore down at the mahogany table beneath her. This time, there was no need for their silent messages they had adopted in the past. There was nothing to tell.**

**"Something to eat, Son?" Lucius's drooling voice echoed around him.**

**"Certainly."**

**"CESSA!" His father's sudden shout made him jump, and by the looks of things, his mother jumped too; her fork fell too the floor with a deafening clang. Once again, the writhing creature appeared baring a tray of delights: fruit, pastries, bread and more. It placed the tray in front of Draco, replaced his mother's fork and retreated, as fast as it could back to the door. For the first time in his life, Draco wished the disgusting thing would stay.**

**He began to chew some bread; but it tasted of nothing. It just sat there in his mouth, plain and tasteless, making the dryness that had been working its way through his mouth, fill it completely. Even though he continually drank the large glass of pumpkin juice he had been bought, the dryness remained. Minutes must have ticked by. They continued eating in silence, the sunlight making its way through the net curtains. Draco kept making subtle glances at his mother, hoping to catch her eye, but they remained focused on the plate below her. It pained him more than anything, to see her scared; he had seen it so many times.**

**His fathers voice bought him back to reality; it came so suddenly his head jerked up in surprise.**

**"You haven't left your room, Draco, since the World Cup."**

**The words _World Cup _played havoc in his head; it was the first time the words had been mentioned in days and yet they remained fresh in his mind as if it had been yesterday. He could almost feel his father's anger; it was rising up like a snake, ready to pounce.**

**Draco remained silent. He couldn't think of a word to say. This would be he his punishment for not formulating a plan earlier on.**

**"Do you not care to tell us why?" His fathers voice sounded cold as ice as it penetrated his eardrums.**

**The soft _tick tock _of the old grandfather clock seemed to spur on his words.**

**"I've been thinking." He stammered out.**

**"And did you reach any conclusions in this…" he paused, his steel eyes focusing on Draco, "…thinking time?' A slight smirk found its way across his lips.**

**Draco dropped his gaze back to the table. His heart was pounding so fast it felt like it would burst at any second.**

**"Perhaps, in those many, _many _days of thinking time, you thought about what happened at the World Cup?"**

**This was it. This was just beginning to heat up.**

**"What do you mean…Father?" he wasn't sure how he managed to sound so cool.**

**"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" A nerve had finally struck Lucius; for his face had suddenly contorted with anger as he continued to shout across the dining room. He stood up and began to work his way around the dining room table, his long black cloak billowing behind him.**

**"L-Lucius, please-" Narcissa's delicate voice sounded, her eyes swimming with tears.**

**"NO NARCISSA! HE MUST TAKE RESPONSILBITY FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE – WHAT HE HAS CAUSED – WHAT HE HAS DONE TO OUR NAME. YOU, BOY, YOU'VE BEEN SITTING IN THAT ROOM WHILST I TRY TO MAKE EXCUSES FOR YOU – FOR WHY YOU FAILED SO MISERABLY."**

**Draco sat motionless in his chair.**

**"-IT WAS A SIMPLE TASK WAS IT NOT? A CHANCE TO INITIATE YOURSELF INTO THIS GREAT REBELLING – I ASSURED EVERYONE HOW YOU WOULD PERFORM – HOW GREATLY HONOURED YOU WERE TO BE CHOSEN FOR IT – BUT HOW WRONG WAS I? A CHILD, NO LESS – A PITYFULL – SELFLESS CHILD! HAD YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT YOU WERE PLAYING FOR? FORGOTTEN WHAT YOU WERE AIMING FOR? OR DOES IT NOT MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU, ANYMORE? THIS MISSION WOULD HAVE BEEN THE MAKING OF YOU – DRACO – AND THE CHANCES YOU WERE GIVEN, AND YOU BLEW THEM. YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THIS HOUSE – THIS NAME –"**

**A loud smash erupted from the end of the table. From where Lucius Malfoy now stood the glasses that had once been neatly ordered into a sparkling cabinet now lay, shattered to a million pieces on the floor. Narcissa looked utterly terrified, but yet she still advanced to her husband, as she pleaded with him, hanging onto his arm.**

**"Lucius, darling, please – please, haven't you punished him enough – sit" she said, forcing him into the chair. Draco was surprised how easily his father has succumbed. Draco was only just aware that he was now standing at the other end of the table. His mother gave a small flick of her wand and the pieces of glass flew into the air and began piecing themselves back together.**

**"Leave us, Narcissa."**

**Narcissa paused from repairing the glasses, and from behind her husband, stared down at Draco.**

**_Do as he says. _She told him with her eyes. And with that, she exited through the dining room door, a resounding _thud _sealing in Draco and his father.**

**Lucius was breathing deeply, his face supported by his right hand whilst his left gently tapping the table.**

**"Sit." He gestured to the chair next to him.**

**Reminding himself of his mother's words he obeyed and slowly walked over to the chair.**

**"What I just don't understand Draco, is _why _you failed to reach the apparation point." His voice was unrecognizably calm now. His eyes remained focused on the grounds beyond the window.**

**"I…" He had to think. Fast. "I…got sidetracked."**

**"'Sidetracked'?" his father repeated.**

**"I knew it was too dangerous to follow the edge of the crowds. So, I went through them. There were Ministry Officials everywhere…"**

**So far his story was true, but he couldn't think of what to say next.**

**"Go on."**

**"…There…there was an accident of some sort, well, I mean, someone, one of our lot, had cast a huge spell, and it impacted on a big area. I was caught in the middle. I looked suspicious. The ministry lot was closing in on me, or the area I was in, and so I had to run for it. I knew I was leaving the course, but our status was in jeopardy."**

**_Did that sound convincing? _He wondered, as his Father seemed to contemplate the situation. He eyed him suspiciously.**

**"And that was it?" He sounded unconvinced. Draco's stomach lurched.**

**"It just seems a bit odd, how you spent days in your room, simply because of a matter which couldn't be helped? We said before the mission that if there was any danger of being found out – then for safety, abandon your position – which you did." Lucius said simply.**

**Draco hadn't thought of that.**

**"Was there any thing else you wish to tell me?"**

**_He can't know – can he? How could he? _His mind raced.**

**He shook his head.**

**"Are you sure?"**

**Now he was really worried – he had to think of something now – but if he already knew –**

**"I saw Potter" he spat out, before he was aware of what he was saying.**

**_Now what have you done. _He thought.**

**"And now we have the real reason." His father's frown twisted into an evil smirk. "Yet again, that _Potter _comes to the rescue. So he was the reason, you failed?"**

**"Yes." Draco lied, trying to think of what to say next. "I saw him, and that – that Weasel, and I – I had to escape. He panicked me." He hoped he seemed concerned in saying this, a bit of sympathy from his father wouldn't hurt.**

**"And what about that _Mudblood? _Wasn't she with them?"**

**Draco felt like he was about to throw up, she, had come up in the conversation – his mind fluttered widely, _he must know, why is he asking about her? He must have seen her lying there – or me._**

**"I didn't get a close enough look." He looked his father straight in the eye – searching for some sort of answer – looking for any sign of him knowing.**

**Lucius took a few moments before speaking.**

**"Hopefully she ended up dead." He said casually, eyes oozing with delight at the thought.**

**"You may go, Draco. But I will arrange a meeting, so you can explain the reason for failure to the whole alliance. They may reconsider you're becoming of a death eater, in the rise of The Dark Lord ascending."**

**Draco nodded, but yet another thought pricked his mind: _maybe, he had faltered that night and chose to save her, because he didn't want to become a death eater. _He had never thought of this before: it added yet another dimension to the mood swings.**

**He rose from the chair and slipped silently from the dining table, glancing at the grandfather clock, which read 7:55. He couldn't help but notice that the beautiful glasses were now as they were before: neatly packed away, behind the glass, as if their shattering had never happened.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Journey of Pasts

The morning of September 1st was clouded by rain and thunder. The Burrow windows looked as if they would shatter if the rain persisted anymore. Hermione was sat at the kitchen table, the remains of the mornings breakfast littered around her.

"GEORGE! EMPTY YOUR TRUNK – IF I FIND ONE MORE OF THOSE BLASTED TOFFEES-" Mrs. Weasley's shouts echoed above her from the landing. The sounds of Charlie and Bill loading the many Hogwarts trunks into the kitchen could be heard from behind her.

She turned back to the paper and for what seemed the thousandth time she began to read the article on page seven.

'_Terror rang out at the Quidditch World Cup last night – the cries and screams of innocent victims could be heard from miles away, say members of the Ministry of Magic. The arrival of the Dark Mark leads to many questions – who? What? Why? Of course, many panicked – the famous mark, known to many as the sign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – shun visibly above the hectic scene. _

"_There were lines of people – masked – some say death eaters –" a Mr. Gregory reported, one of the thousands of wizards who came to see such a spectacular event. Officials of the Ministry of Magic have come into speculation – why such a lack of security, one asks? How could such an event even happen? Some say that these masked people are Death Eaters – followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whilst others say 'clearly the Irish celebrating- nothing to worry about.' Simply, it is too much of a coincidence that the Dark Mark appears and innocent people are killed under the spells of what people are-"_

But Hermione was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Not reading that article_ again_ are you Hermione?" Ron said, as he wheezed from carrying a rather heavy Hogwarts trunk from downstairs.

She simply smiled. "Just trying to get a clearer picture."

"Well – ones things for sure – your trunk is the heaviest of the lot! What have you got in there? A thousand rocks or something?" He walked away, still clutching his side.

It had been just under two weeks since the World Cup had happened, and just over a week ago that Hermione had been released from St. Mungo's hospital. Her leg – which had been identified as being hit by a burning curse – was better, but still painful. It had been bandaged up tightly and even though she could just about walk on it, she was no-where near up to lifting trunks. She had spent the last week being nursed by Mrs. Weasley, who now seemed tired and aggravated. Before she had adjusted to walking on her leg properly she had been levitated around – she wouldn't deny it was rather fun. Mr. Weasley had been at work almost everyday – the Ministry was still dealing with the World Cup aftermath.

"-I TOLD YOU GEORGE- NOW GIVE THEM TO ME- FRED YOU TOO – NO, DON'T YOU DARE-" Mrs. Weasley's voice was now coming nearer and nearer as she descended down the stairs hotly.

"Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with them!" She bustled into the kitchen and grasped her to-do list in her hands. She muttered to herself as she ticked the jobs off.

"I think we're all set!" she announced, her voice rose slightly so that everyone on other floors could hear.

"Now, Hermione dear-" she sat down opposite her, her voice now concerned.

"-You must be careful on that leg. Don't work too hard – I've informed Hogwarts of your injuries and Madam Pomfrey – well you know her – she'll be on hand if you need help. Make sure you get Ron – and Harry – to help you lift everything, yes?"

"I will" she smiled. "Thank you Mrs. Weasley – for everything – I'm really grateful-"

"Oh it was nothing dear" she smiled sympathetically, but it didn't last long - her voice turned harsh once more:

"FRED, GEORGE – COME ON THE MUGGLE TAXI IS HERE!"

After the whole Weasley clan, herself and Harry had bustled into the three-muggle taxis, they soon arrived at Kings Cross. The rain hammered down so hard that they were absolutely soaked as they reach platform nine and three quarters. Hermione watched as Ron, Harry, Fred, George and Ginny loaded the trunks onto the last carriage before they all waved a sad goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie.

The rain battered down on the windows of the Hogwarts Express until she could see nothing but the raindrops racing each other down the windowpane. She was sat by the window next to Ron and opposite Ginny and Harry before Seamus, Dean and a very wet-looking Neville appeared at the compartment doors.

"Hiya!" Seamus said as he bounded into the compartment, sitting down next to Harry. He gave a sneaky look at Hermione's bandaged up knee.

"All right, Hermione?" he gave her a wink. She looked away.

"What happened?" said Neville, sounding anxious. A tense silence had suddenly filled the compartment.

"It was a burning hex-" she started, as she looked down at her leg. "I'll be fine soon – I can just about walk on it, thanks for asking Neville." She gave him a warm smile and he blushed.

"So you don't need levitating around then?" Seamus asked, again giving some sort of wink.

"No, not any more."

"Ah, I'm sure Ron was well up for giving you a hand-" but he stopped as Ron kicked his shin.

The rain did not ease off at all as the journey continued. The normal green pastures were now muddy swamps and rivers over spilled onto their banks. The boys and Ginny had now immersed them selves into even more Quidditch conversation. It was not until Draco Malfoy appeared at the compartment door that they stopped talking.

*\*\*\

**Draco sank back into his seat, allowing his head to rest gently on the headrest. He closed his eyes as the train rumbled beneath him. The cabin had now become dark from the weather outside. **

"**So, Draco-" the voice of Blaise Zabini drifted over his head.**

"**-What happened at the Cup? I heard some Muggles got tortured."**

**Draco opened his eyes. "Yeh, they did." **

"**And what about everything else?" Blaise's eyes narrowed eagerly. He could feel Pansy next to him watching them both with intense interest. **

"**Fine. Thank you for your concern."**

_**That'll shut him up. **_**He thought, savagely. He liked Blaise, but that didn't mean he trusted him. He wasn't sure how far his failure had been told, but nevertheless, he'd rather Blaise wasn't to know. **

"**So how was your holiday Draco?" Pansy's wailing voice sounded from next to him.**

_**Questions. So many questions. **_**It was like being back in ****occlumency**** again, like being back at the manor, in that dark damp room. **

"**Fine." He answered sharply. He could tell Pansy was disappointed. **

**There was a pause.**

"**Did you hear?"**

"**Hear what, Blaise?" he answered hotly. **

'**About that Mudblood Granger?" **

**Panic surged inside him. This is what ****occlumency**** had been about: blocking out thoughts like this. But they still made his heart pump loudly. **

"**Ooh, hear what?" Pansy retorted.**

"**Apparently," Blaise leaned in closer, "She got badly injured at the World Cup. Almost died. Shame she didn't, I saw the little piece of scum on the platform."**

"**What happened to her, who did it to her?" Draco could tell by her quickening speech she wanted to know more. **

"**Dunno what she got hit by or by whom – but I'm sure it was one of our lot."**

**Pansy recoiled back into her seat, clearly unsatisfied by the information. Draco remained quiet; he didn't want to touch on the topic. **

**Suddenly there was a knock on the compartment door and it slid open. A girl, a sixth year, with long dark hair tied neatly in a ponytail, stood there, a brown envelope clasped in her hand.**

"**Yes?" Draco stared at her: he couldn't care less if she was a prefect. It was a well-known fact that given his family's status, people answered to Draco. **

"**A letter came for you, it arrived in our compartment." She spat and she stepped into the compartment and handed him the letter. **

**Draco recognised the writing immediately. "Is that it then?"**

**The girl looked utterly perplexed but did not say anything else. She left, slamming the compartment door behind her. **

"**Who's it from, Draco?"**

"**Not sure" he lied. He resisted the urge to rip open the parchment: he didn't want either of them to read it. **

**Several minutes ticked by: Pansy had gone off to the neighboring compartment to go and gossip, no doubt, with her gang of girls, being tired of waiting for Draco to open the letter. Blaise had his eyes shut: supposedly asleep. **

**He looked down once again at the handwriting, turned the envelope over and gently ripped it open. He folded out the letter inside and read it slowly.**

_**My office: 8:30pm sharp. Come alone after the feast. Send owl reply.**_

**He folded the letter back up and stuffed it away inside his robes. He reached for the quill that was sticking out of Blaise's bag overhead and tore off a piece of the envelope. **

_**Certainly. **_**Was all he wrote. He took one last look at Blaise, wheeled back the compartment door and slipped silently down the moving corridor. He passed many compartments: frequently loud bangs issued out of them, causing him to look suspiciously into them. Others contained groups of gossiping girls, terrified looking first years and some older years who seemed to be merely muttering a few words to each other. **

**He wasn't expecting to see her sitting in one of the carriages. It seemed stupid now; even Blaise had mentioned she was here, it just hadn't occurred to him. Before he realised what he was doing, Weasley, Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors were staring at him gormlessly. He had only just realised that he stopped right outside their compartment. He panicked and as fast as he could, turned and continued down the corridor - but too late.**

"**Oi, Malfoy!" He stopped abruptly. **_**What now?**_

"**Yes Weasel?" He said calmly.**

"**What are you doing: standing there staring into our carriage?"**

"**I wasn't **_**staring **_**Weasel."**

"**Well that's what it looked like." Potter's voice came into the midst of things.**

**Draco turned around.  
"Well?"**

"_**Well, **_**Potter, I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. But if you must know, I was simply just checking to see whether old Daddy Weasel was too embarrassed to send his brutes back to Hogwarts after that piece in the Prophet. Clearly I was wrong, he obviously doesn't care about being a disgrace to the Wizarding World."**

**He saw Weasley grab his wand in anger, as he had many times before, and continued down the corridor. **

_**That was close. **_**He thought, and he was right. It was too close. He reached the end of the train quicker than he thought he would. A large brown owl eyed him suspiciously as he attached his reply to its leg. It gave Draco a quick glance before he rustled his wings and set off. Draco watched it fly away into the now brewing storm until it disappeared into the clouds.**


	5. Chapter 5: Suspicions

Now safely inside one of the many Hogwarts carriages, conversation turned once again to Draco Malfoy. The rain was battering the tops of the compartment and it was hard to distinguish what each other were saying.

"BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK HE WAS DOING?" Ron was shouting at Hermione and Harry for the third time.

"Alright Ron we heard you – no need to shout!" Hermione said, although even she admitted that she had to raise her voice slightly.

"He was just standing there wasn't he: what was he looking at? Do you really reckon he had just come to see if we were still coming to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know…" Harry said. "Surely he could have checked for us at the feast – normally, if he ever approaches us it's to be his usual horrid self."

"Exactly!" Ron replied. "He was definitely up to something. Why was he heading that way down the train? What is even down there?"

"Only other compartments." Hermione piped up. "And the end of the train. But why he would want to go down there is a mystery to me."

"You know, he seemed to be really focused on something in that compartment. He was looking your way, Hermione."

"Don't be ridiculous Ron, why would he be looking at me?"

"Maybe he wanted to glimpse your leg: maybe he heard about it from someone?" Harry said, although he didn't sound convinced. "But it was funny – as soon as he realised we were all staring at him, he moved like a shot!"

"He didn't want to look embarrassed!" Ron said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

The trio sat in silence for a while before suddenly realizing that the carriage had already stopped. The rain had turned the short distance from the drive to the front doors into a mud bath and it was a task trying to help support Hermione as well as themselves to reach the entrance hall.

The Great Hall was as crowded as ever and the bewitched ceiling was glistening in the rain. Hermione couldn't help but notice how many eyes were now staring at her bandaged up leg as she took a seat at the Gryffindor table. Seated next to Harry with her back against the wall, they had a good view of the Slytherin table. She spotted Malfoy half way down beside Crabbe. She hadn't noticed before in that brief moment on the train how gaunt and pale he seemed to look. He was wearing a blank vacant expression, not the usual sneers he seemed to wear. She remembered at the World Cup how confident and daring he looked before the riot had started: how casual he had been whilst talking to them. He looked a different person now…and Hermione couldn't help but wonder whether he _seemed _a different person too. There was something about him now that looked as if he had suddenly grown up, for his features were far more defined than ever before.

Feeling as though she had over analyzed things slightly she drew her attention back to the feast, forcing her self to push Draco Malfoy out of her mind. His behavior on the train had been so peculiar. In that brief moment that he was staring at them, she thought she had seen a flicker of panic flare up in his eyes: something she had never seen before.

Now back in the comfort and warmth of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione allowed herself to join in with the excitement of the news about the Triwizard Tournament. She had been listening to Fred and George's moans about the age restrictions – but nonetheless the atmosphere was electric.

"Wish I could enter." Ron slumped back into the armchair, breathing out heavily.

"For Goodness sake Ron – the tournament is fantastic news! Think of the connections we will make with everyone from abroad! Why anyone would want to enter themselves into such a dangerous thing is beyond me – but we can still enjoy it!" She said, as Lee Jordan set off another firework from behind her.

"Come on Ron, don't spoil the atmosphere!" she said playfully. But within minutes of saying this, Crookshanks had pounced onto her lap and caught her leg on the way – causing it to intensify with pain. "Ouch – Crookshanks – ouch!" She said as she great furry thing settled onto her lap.

Now bound under Crookshank's purring body, Hermione allowed herself to relax into the chair, until she suddenly remembered.

"Oh Merlin – I need my potion for my leg – get off Crookshanks – sorry!" as she pushed the hairy beast off her.

"Your mum reminded me Ron before we went, and I was just about to forget! It'll be in the hospital wing." She made to get up. _How could I forget? _She told herself.

"Couldn't we go and get it?" said Harry kindly.

"No, you can't – Madam Pomfrey will only allow the invalid to collect their own potion – so she can administrate the correct amounts and perform the charm so that no-one else can use it but me."

She left the cheers and bangs of the common room behind as she climbed through the portrait hole and into the corridor outside.

The corridor was deserted. The painting occupants were either snoozing or swaying slightly after the feast. She retreated down the first staircase, aware of the echoing sounds her shoes were making. She was just coming down the marble staircase in the entrance hall when she stopped abruptly as something caught her eye.

Draco Malfoy was just leaving the Great Hall…but he was on his own. He seemed to be checking for any signs of anyone watching him. Hermione retreated slightly as to be hidden by the curve in the staircase. She watched him walk away down the narrow corridors that lead to the dungeons before descending down the staircase. Curiosity taking over, she stuck her head around Great Hall doors over to the Slytherin table and was surprised to see that the table was still nearly full. She continued to scan it and her eyes fell on Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe and the rest of his Slytherin gang.

_Strange. _She thought. _Why would Draco Malfoy be heading off to the Dungeons on his own, when the rest of Slytherin were still enjoying the festivities in the Great Hall?_

*\*\*\

**Draco entered Snape's office quietly. The familiar smell of damp and earth filled his nostrils. He stared at the contents surrounding the walls: stepping back slightly as he glimpsed the jar labelled 'Frog Eyes."**

"**Sit." Snape's drooling voice bounced off the walls as Draco turned to face him. Grey met black as they stared at each momentarily. Draco did as he was told and sat. **

"**Your Father has informed me of your circumstances." Snape started, sounding completely calm. **

"**And what circumstances may they be?" Draco said, equally as coolly. **

**Snape eyed him for a moment before speaking.**

"**To cut a long story short, Draco, your father has requested that I perform a series of ****occlumency lessons with you."**

**Draco had been expecting this and he was glad for it: for if he hadn't he was sure his face would display some of the intense panic he was feeling. **

"**As to what these occlumency sessions will involve I am not entirely sure." He continued, his black eyes searching Draco's face. **

"**I don't understand." Draco said honestly. **

"**Your Father has only briefly filled me in on your situation and therefore, you can choose to tell me as much or as little as you like. However, I will be seeing most of it anyway whether you wish to tell me or not so actually the power lies with me." His black eyes glistened menacingly. **

**Draco wasn't quite sure how he was managing to keep a straight face. Before he could ask, Snape answered his question.**

"**We will begin in the fall of next week - not tonight – it is too late." Snape seemed to sense Draco's relief for a small smile formed across his thin lips. **

**Draco nodded his head curtly and got up to leave. **

"**I may be stating the obvious but I think it is both yours and your Father's wish to keep these sessions private. See you tomorrow." And with that he billowed out of the room, to the opposite wall where a hidden doorway stood, his long black cape swishing behind him. **

**He seemed to arrive back in the Dormitory quite suddenly. It was actually quite a surprise to find himself there listening to the distant murmurings below seeing as only a few minutes ago he had been in Snape's office. He pulled his pyjamas on and lay lazily on top of the silvery duvet. He stared up at the canopy above his head, allowing the conversation he had just minutes ago with the potions master to sink in. **

**They weren't going to start occlumency until sometime next week and that was a relief for a start. Past experiences had taught him to plan ahead and now he had at least a couple of days to get his story straight. But at the back of his mind he thought about this supposed story. There was no use in planning if Snape was going to get it out of him anyway. He knew as soon as Snape looked into his mind he, Draco, would crack and he would see everything. And the thought terrified him. Back at the manor Draco had had a few lessons, but so far there had been no actual mind penetration-**

**He stopped thinking abruptly and sat up. **

_**Why hadn't there been any mind penetration? **_

_**Because he wanted you to have it with Snape. **_**A voice in the back of his mind answered him. And now it made sense, it all fitted. His father, his oh-so-kind father had deliberately made sure the occlumency sessions back home had been pointless, as to lead Draco on for a false sense of hope. Now at Hogwarts, and under the watchful eye of his ally Snape, would he allow the real occlumency to continue? His father was obviously not content with the story Draco had fed him with about what happened at the world cup. **

"**Shit." He said aloud to himself. **

"**Shit. Shit. Shit." **


	6. Chapter 6: The Beginning

"_**Lucius – don't tell me you haven't seen the signs?"**_

"_**I have seen them, yes."**_

"_**Shouldn't we act? Seek him, or run?"**_

"_**No. I thought you were braver than that – The Dark Lord is rising and fast. You would be a fool to not recognize the signs."**_

**The brightly lit room containing his father and the man he did not recognise vanished and was replaced with a clearing. It was dark but beads of shining light were visible through the leaves. He looked around and there lying on the ground was a mangled body – blood gushing from her robes, her hair matted and blood stained. A high-pitched laugh was circling through the trees, before a second deeper laugh joined them-**

**Draco sat bolt upright, drenched in a cold sweat. He looked around, it was second nature to do so, and was relieved to see the other beds around him, meaning he was still in his Slytherin Dormitory. He fell back onto his pillows, gasping for air. **

**The same dream he had been having for weeks filled his mind. It was such a **_**vivid **_**dream. It seemed so real. But yet it seemed like a sort of twisted fantasy. Everything seemed eerie and light, but the actual people – the actual situation was dark and disturbing. **

**Lying there, listening to the snores of the other boys around him, his thoughts turned to himself. Draco Malfoy. The boy everyone admired – the handsome one, the formidable one, the rich one, the bully. Last year he had been so sure of himself, so confident but now…**

**His thoughts trailed off. These mood swings were becoming so bad it was almost painful to get up day by day. He felt like lying there forever, but then again whenever he slept his thoughts were clouded in a pool of anger and confusion and it unsettled him to the extreme. **

**He glanced at his watch that was resting on the bedside table: 6:02am. He would be getting up in just under an hours time anyway. He dressed quickly and quietly. He looked briefly outside the window and saw that the storm has cleared, revealing a cloudless sky. The window was placed so that half of the sky was visible, whilst the other half showed the under surface of the Black lake: he could see several bright coloured fish hurtling by. **

**Draco had not forgotten his promise he made to himself last night. He settled into one of the plush leather sofas in the middle of the deserted common room. He now had some sort of a plan and he hoped this would perhaps sidetrack his constant negative thoughts, **_**something to aim for he **_**reassured himself. **

**Although his plan was to block the happenings of the World Cup from the eyes of Snape, he couldn't help but still feel panicked. If he saw even the smallest glimpse of her – Granger – he would be done for. Now, she dominated not only his thoughts of the World Cup, but other thoughts as well. He was not quite sure how far she went into his thoughts…she could just pop up anywhere. He was going to go to a place he had hardly ever seen this evening: Hogwarts Library. He planned on looking up books on ****occlumency…and how to block it. **

**His train of thoughts was interrupted. Noises of people waking up could be heard from either side of him and footsteps were now echoing off the corridors that lead to the dormitories. A few people entered and soon enough Blaise and Pansy joined him on the sofa. **

"**You're up early mate." Blaise stifled a yawn. **

"**Couldn't sleep." He brushed the comment aside. **

**Pansy still looked half asleep: her long brown hair was slightly ruffled and her brown eyes glazed with tiredness, nevertheless she still looked quite pretty. **

"**Alright Pansy?" Draco felt quite chirpy all of a sudden, considering how dark his thoughts had been all morning. **

**Pansy looked delighted he had asked her such a thing, and whilst patting down her hair she replied "Yes thank you Draco" and she gave him a big smile. **

**He had also silently decided that he would avoid Granger at all costs: both to stop him from thinking about that night and to stop her from becoming suspicious: his actions were not predictable if they so happened to speak: he wasn't sure how his mind would cope with it. **

**He sat deliberately with his back to the Gryffindor Table. If he was going to overcome this occlumency, he needed to do it with a clear head.**

**Timetables were passed down as normal and Draco couldn't help but notice how later in the day how they would be sharing their Potions class with the stupid Gryffindors. Draco's heart gave a sounding leap as he realised that Snape would also be in the room with them, keeping an eye on any of his movements. **

**A great black owl distracted his thoughts as it came soaring down onto the table. He recognised it as one of the owls they had at the manor and he seized it anxiously – it contained a parcel and a letter. He held the letter just under the table and read:**

_**Do as Severus says. I will be hearing of your behavior.**_

**His father's tiny writing stared blankly at him.**

_**Great - another person watching me. Another thing to add to the terrible mess I am in already. **_


	7. Chapter 7: Complications

The night had passed quite seamlessly after Hermione had returned with her medicine. Most of the house was still awake – their festivities continued deep into the night. Her encounter before this, however, had not passed seamlessly through her mind. She wasn't sure why, but she hadn't told Ron or Harry, or anyone for that matter, about seeing Draco leave the Slytherin table last night. And it bothered her that she hadn't told them, yet every time she tried to explain her lips wouldn't form the words she wanted them to. Accepting this, Hermione tried to block the thought from her memory by immersing her self in the organisation of the first day of term. She currently could be found handing out timetables to designated students who had failed to receive theirs the night before.

"Hermione, just sit down. They're only first years-"

"They are not JUST first years, Ron, they are first years – plain and simply – we were like them once."

"I was never that annoying. Or that short. Harry on the other hand-"

"Oh give it a rest Ron! I'm done now anyway." She took a place next to Harry, who seemed to have hurtled his cooked tomato in Ron's direction in retaliation to his comment concerning his height.

"Anyway, it's not a bad day." She said, scanning her timetable. She had spoken too soon.

"Except for Potions with the Slytherins. Fifth lesson."

"You know the only good thing about though?" Ron said, leaning closer to them.

"No." Harry and Hermione's voices sounded simultaneously.

"Malfoy!"

"Malfoy..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"You know – we can have a better look at him – find out what he's up to!"

The fact that Draco Malfoy had cropped up in conversation for the second time that morning angered Hermione greatly. Draco had no right to be in her mind – she had more important things to focus on. To start with she had a meeting with McGonagall this evening. That was her priority. She tuned out of the rest of the conversation between Harry and Ron. The odd "looked a bit pale though, didn't he?" cropped up here and there, but she took no notice and was pleasantly surprised to hear the bell ring to signal first period.

*\*\*\

**Some meeting with McGonagall and Snape had scuppered Draco's plans to go to the library that evening and now he had had to make alternative arrangements. Unfortunately, the rain that had ceased yesterday had made a come back and it seemed the whole of Hogwarts had resided in the Library. **_**Exactly what I didn't need. **_**He heard himself think. **_**Can anything go right for me? **_

"**M…Magic Basics…M…Magic for first years…" he muttered under his breath as he scanned row upon row of books. **

"**Missing Magic…Mind Penetration!" He grabbed a blue-bound old book from the shelf with such gust he made a few second years jump. He snarled at them – they knew who he was, they were right to be scared of him.**

**He ventured over to a small table that occupied one fifth year he didn't recognise and slumped into the chair opposite her – he could feel her gaze intensifying with curiosity as she angled herself to look over the book she was reading. **

**He scanned the contents of the book until he found what he was looking for: "Mind Penetration: block and bring back." It took him half an hour to read one page the font was so small and the language so complex, but he thought he understood it. **_**Small steps. **_**He told himself. He knew that his first steps were to find the exact image he needed to get rid of – which meant pin-pointing the specific time he needed to clear from his mind. The only flaw was that she occupied several clippings of his memory and they all blurred together. **_**He saw Granger briefly at the beginning of the World Cup. He smiled sarcastically at her. The next time he saw her she was lying on the ground…under a thousand or so stampeding feet…**_

**His thoughts trailed off as he began to feel physically sick and he was aware of the beads of sweat forming of his forehead. He couldn't do this now – it needed better concentration…and endurance. It seemed that getting rid of Granger was going to be a lot more complicated that he thought. **

*\*\*\

It was quarter to seven by the time Hermione left the Gryffindor common room that evening for the second time in two days. This time however, she was not alone.

"What's this about then?" Said Neville as they made their way down the stone steps.

"No idea…but I hope it doesn't last long. I haven't even started that Potions essay yet. It's odd they wanted both of us, isn't it?"

"Suppose." answered Neville, looking confused.

They continued down a deserted corridor and Hermione's thoughts turned to that afternoon's Potions Lesson. It hadn't been as bad as she had expected it to be. For starters, Malfoy had positioned himself at the very front of the classroom, which meant that Harry and Ron couldn't comment on his distinct change in appearance. Luckily, it had been a Theory of Potions lesson so not much movement was required. When the bell had rung to signal the end of the lesson Malfoy had silently collected his things and left the classroom before anybody else, which in itself was a little odd, but wasn't cause for concern-

"Hermione – Neville!" A voice sounded behind them.

From around the corner appeared Hannah Abbot – her blonde hair tied in a neat ponytail – accompanied by a boy Hermione didn't recognise.

"You going to McGonagall's too?" Hannah breathed as she reached the step that Hermione and Neville waited at.

"Yes!" Hermione said. "We were just saying we have no idea what this is all about. Do you?"

"No, we were hoping you might tell us!" Hannah replied. She must have caught Hermione's curious glances at the dark-blonde haired boy who stood just beside Hannah, for she made a sudden gesture to introduce him.

"Oh yes, this is Nate by the way." Nate smiled briefly before shaking hands with Neville - they seemed to know each other.

The four of them now continued down the steps to the Great Hall where they were to meet McGonagall. Hannah and Hermione continued in conversation and it was then when Hermione's heart skipped several beats.

Unaware to the likes of Hermione, Neville had pushed the doors of the Great Hall open but she and Hannah had remained immersed in conversation. Noticing how the group had come to a standstill, she looked up:

"Finally! Miss Granger I thought you of all people would be punctual! Is that all of you then? Longbottom, Abbot and Price too?"

But McGonagall's voice was distant and far away. Hermione's eyes now focused, not on the two Professors who stood in the centre of the room, but on the group of students beyond them. Amidst the black robes stood a figure, out cast slightly from the huddle of the group, with strikingly blonde hair.

"Mr. Malfoy are you listening to me?"

Draco's head shot up at the sound of his name.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously – he seemed panic-stricken and lost. _Why is he here? _She asked herself. _Of all people – of all the Slytherins – it had to be him. _His behaviours had been most odd and she seemed to have been noticing him more than she usually did. The very fact he had been in her thought process more than once that day struck a nerve in her brain and she forced herself to draw her eyes back to McGonagall and Snape. She had only just noticed she and her fellows stood encircled around them.

"You might be wondering why we called you here…" Snape's voice echoed off the walls of the Hall.

"…Believe me it is my very last wish to spend my evening here with you all, but Professor McGonagall, quite rightly, thought it appropriate to call a meeting."

For the first time since she had entered the room, Hermione noticed a strangle-circle shaped object emitting blue smoke beyond the circle of students opposite her. It was not dissimilar to the Goblet of Fire that Dumbledore had revealed yesterday. For a moment she allowed herself to take in the rest of the people in the circle; from Ravenclaw the cold, harsh face of Michael Corner stared blankly back at her, and stood a few inches away from him was a girl she later recognised to be Lucinda Grainne. To Lucinda's left stood Nate and Hannah, then herself and Neville, to arrive at the Slytherins. Daphne Greengrass stood next to Neville, her sour facing scanning the other students, her jet-black hair billowing down her back. Hermione took a quick glance at Malfoy – she could have sworn he was looking at her – before averting her gaze back to Snape as fast as she could.

"As Professor Dumbledore announced yesterday, the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year. In a few weeks time we will greet students from over-seas where they will arrive in order to take part in the Tournament." McGonagall now revolved slowly on the spot to look momentarily at each of the students.

"As you have no doubt noticed, two members from each of the School Houses are here with you. The key message from events such as The Triwizard Tournament is to embody house unity."

A scoff sounded from the Slytherin end of the circle.

"In accordance with the running of the Tournament a special event is organized in addition to the main events. This traditionally takes the role of a Ball – first and foremost – a dance."

A few worried glances exchanged around the circle and Hermione herself was aware of the butterflies stirring in her stomach.

"As I mentioned before, house unity is a key part of the Tournament, and consequently, the Ball itself. That explains the reasoning behind two members of each house being here tonight – a witch and wizard is required to take part from each."

"We, the heads of house, have selected two of our own pupils to take part in a special section of the Ball." She nodded at Professor Snape.

"Each of you will be partnered with a member from a different house to yours – this will be your Ball partner – and together, as a group of eight, you will take part in the highest honour – the House Dance."

It seemed at that moment Daphne had heard enough as she spluttered out:

"Sorry Professor, did I understand you correctly? We will be dancing with one of them?" She pointed at the rest of the circle, a look of disgust settling across her features.

"Yes, you understood me correctly Miss Greengrass."

Daphne looked appalled.

"I hope you all acknowledge that taking part in this is a great honour. You will be dancing in front of the whole school to demonstrate the house unity embodied by the tournament."

"THE WHOLE SCHOOL?" Michael Corner's silent absence subsided.

"The whole school, yes. It is a great honour. Now, I am sure you have noticed this fascinating object." She walked over to the basin-type object emitting blue flames.

"What is it?" Nate enquired.

"It is a selection-basin." Snape's voice drooled over their heads.

"It has a similar mechanism to the Goblet of Fire, but its contract-binding is not as severe." He continued.

"Now – I need you to write you name on a bit of parchment and submit it to the basin." McGonagall levitated quills and segments of parchment over to each student.

Hermione gripped her quill tightly and made her way over to the benches that were pushed to either side of the hall.

"Can you believe this!?" Hannah said next to her as she began to write her name on her parchment.

"What if I'm paired with Malfoy? Or worse – Michael Corner – have you seen how miserable he is!?" She added.

Hermione just nodded. This wouldn't be so bad if _he _wasn't here. She wrote her name a little shakily onto the parchment and dropped it into the basin, which swirled at the parchment's touch.

With what seemed like hours later, everyone had submitted his or her name. Hermione had never seen Malfoy look so pale as when he dropped his name into the basin.

They all stepped back to encircle the curious object, which now glowed a pale gold.

"The basin is charmed so that it cannot reiterate two names of the same house and is contracted to choose a witch and wizard from each." Said Snape.

Suddenly, blue sparks shot from the basin and a piece of folded up parchment landed in McGonagall's hand.

"Now, if I call your name would you please stand to my right." She said as she unfolded the parchment.

"Lucinda Grainne."

Lucinda stepped cautiously over to McGonagall's right, where Nate later accompanied her. They shook hands awkwardly.

Another piece of parchment…

"Neville Longbottom."

"Hannah Abbott."

Neville looked immensely relieved as he and Hannah went to stand beside Lucinda and Nate.

Hermione's heart felt as if it was going to leap out of her chest – there were only two options left – Michael or Malfoy.

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Michael Corner."

It was as if she had been hit with a stunning spell. Hermione froze. This couldn't be happening. Not him. Not now –

"Which leaves," Snape drooled, "Malfoy and Granger." And with that Hermione recognised her own handwriting unfolding on parchment that resided in McGonagall's hand.

"Hermione Granger."

"…And…" – she unfolded the second piece of parchment -

"Draco Malfoy."


	8. Chapter 8: Fragments

**/./ = gaps of time. It wont let me use stars! Sorry for confusion. **

**His pace was quickening with every step he took. **

_**Almost there. Just a few more steps. **_

**He had left Daphne standing in the Great Hall. He didn't care. He needed to get away from there. **

**He loosened his tie around his neck and pulled off his jumper – he felt trapped, contaminated – as if his very clothes were strangling him. He was aware of the pulsing vein in his temple and his blurring vision. **

_**There it is!**_

**With one last push he sprinted to the door he so longed to see and it swung open at his touch. It was abandoned. **_**Perfect. **_

**He flung his tie and jumper to one side where they landed in a pool of water. He continued over to the sinks that stood in the centre of the room and turned a tap. The water he was now splashing over his face cooled him instantly and he must have spent at least five minutes just relishing the coolness on his skin. He looked into the cracked mirror that held his pale, weak reflection. **

**The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the cold floor of the bathroom, his hands cut and covered in blood, surrounded by jagged pieces of mirror. The sound of his own screams of anger ruptured his eardrums and yet he couldn't stop. Every scream, every cry, felt like a release as it echoed off the walls around him. He wanted the screams to stop but he couldn't – he couldn't control anything anymore. In amidst visions of a dark clearing he could see his father and the man he didn't recognise, the voices he had never heard before, he could the see the things that scared him the most. He could see himself as a child – at the hands of his father, the memories and the pain -**

**/./**

**His breathing was deep and shallow. He opened his eyes – they were more focused now. He stood up slowly and paced the room. **

_**What is happening to me? **_**He was asking questions he didn't know the answer to. **

**He couldn't believe what had just happened in the Great Hall. **

_**It's a dream. A nightmare. **_**He told himself. **

**He sank back against the cold walls of the girl's bathroom on the third floor. This had often been a place of refuge in the past. **

**The whole thing was such a terrible, terrible mess. He allowed his mind to briefly flutter over the fact that this moment, this breakdown, here in this bathroom, was going to be another thing he needed to block from Snape. **

_**I can't do this. **_**He heard himself think. **

_**How can I possibly do this? **_**He put his head in his hands. **

**That stupid little Mudblood had caused all this. These mood swings were worse than ever before and he was scared. Scared of what his father would do to him if he ever found out, scared about what he was becoming. He was **_**a Malfoy. **_**Draco Malfoy – before he knew exactly who he was and what he stood for. **

**Or did he?**

**/./**

**Hours must have ticked by before Draco stirred and looked at his watch. He was right: it read 10:36om. **

**The bathroom was now almost pitch black – the shattered mirror sparkled in the moonlight. He looked at his hands: they were covered in blood, as was his shirt. He ran the icy cold water over them and watched the blood flow easily down the plughole. He tore his shirt: it was already ruined, and wrapped his hands in it to stem the blood flow. With his other free hand he picked up his wand: **

"_**Reparo." **_

**He watched the fragments of glass congress to form the mirror again before picking up his jumper and tie and stepping into the all-too-familiar silent corridor. **


	9. Chapter 9: Immersed

It was hard to believe that it was only the second day of term considering so much had happened. Hermione turned over onto her side to face the door. She was so angry with McGonagall for making her do this stupid dance and even worse, she wasn't allowed to tell anyone about it. Not even Harry or Ron. McGonagall had expressed clearly that the house unity dance was to remain a surprise and that in the selecting-basin contract embodied secrecy to the event. A thought had struck her in the night: what about her leg? Surely, she was injured and couldn't take part? Yes, even Hermione admitted that her leg was practically as good as new now and the medicine was only precautionary, but McGonagall didn't know that. She was going to find her this morning and tell her.

It was the very fact that Malfoy was her partner that made her so unhappy to take part. He was so vile and cruel – how was it morally right to place them together – considering what he had called her in the past? But Malfoy's reaction made hers look mediocre. She had never seen such anger, frustration or embarrassment on his face. The second they were allowed to go he shot out of the Great Hall and out of sight. His behaviour was _so odd. _It had only just struck Hermione that she _hated _him. She really did. The only person who she could confide in was Neville, and so she did that morning down in the common room before breakfast.

"I can't believe this." She started, sitting down into an armchair.

"I feel sorry for you..." said Neville, looking concerned. "I mean, Malfoy, of all people…"

"Tell me about it. I don't think I can do this Neville. I'm going to speak to McGonagall. Don't look at me like that – you're fine! You're with Hannah!"

"But I thought we were doing this together!" Neville cried.

"Well you aren't partnered with Mr. I-hate-mudbloods-lets-make-Granger's-life-a-misery! So-"

"What's this?" Ron had sat down between them.

"Oh…nothing." Hermione said quietly, anger bubbling within.

"What was that meeting about last night?"

"Extra transfiguration lessons."

"What, just for you two?"

"No – a few others."

This seemed to satisfy Ron as he dropped the subject and suggested they all went to breakfast, which they did. The Great Hall was as packed as ever. Hermione spotted McGonagall at the staff table – she would go and see her after she had eaten something. As she was eating her toast she absent-mindedly scanned the Slytherin table, but Draco wasn't there. _Strange. _She thought.

With that thought just processing in her brain, she glimpsed McGonagall rise from the table.

"Hey, where are you going!?" Ron called as Hermione slipped out from the bench.

She didn't answer but headed towards McGonagall.

"Professor-" she breathed.

"Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I was thinking, about the meeting yesterday."

"Go on."

Hermione seemed to stumble on her words.

"Well, I was wondering why you chose me to take part. What with my leg and everything-"

"You mean your injured leg?"

"Well…yes."

"Miss Granger I had spoken to Madam Pomfrey beforehand and she assured me that your leg was in good enough condition to dance. In fact, she said that exercise would do it good."

Hermione stood motionless. This is not what she had hoped for.

"Was there anything else?" McGonagall continued, looking bemused.

Hermione shook her head.

"Well, I look forward to seeing you tonight then."

"Tonight, Professor?"

"Yes, didn't you get the message? I asked Longbottom to tell you?"

"No…" she answered. She had a feeling this wasn't going to be good news.

"Well, there is another meeting tonight – well more of a practice really – for the eight of you. In here at six-thirty. No exceptions." And with that, she brushed past Hermione and out of the Great Hall.

Hermione hadn't thought about the actual dancing with Malfoy. But now, her mind made sure it was all she thought about all day. The thought that they had to hold hands and 'waltz' together made her skin crawl. And it was this thought that dominated her mind still as she made her way to the Great Hall once again with Neville that night.

Determined to improve their status with McGonagall, they had arrived twenty minutes early – they were not the only ones: it seemed that Lucinda and Michael had had the same idea.

Professor McGonagall was not alone however: a witch and wizard Hermione didn't recognise accompanied her. They weren't Hogwarts students, nor were they Professors. McGonagall made a point of not giving the slightest hint about their identity until all the students arrived.

Soon after herself and Neville had arrived, Hannah and Nate had joined them, followed by Daphne. Malfoy was no-where to be seen.

With one minute to go, his pale face appeared from behind the doors and he walked into the Great Hall, obviously aware of the many eyes upon him. His gaze remained focused on the floor as McGonagall began to speak.

"Thank you all for being here again this evening. As you are aware, this is the first official dance practice in preparation for the Yule Ball."

Hermione's stomach lurched.

"Now, I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine." She gestured towards the witch and wizard beside her.

"First of all I would like you to meet Laurella Fitz." Laurella stepped forward into the light and Hermione couldn't help by notice how pretty she was. She had long dark hair that lay flat against her back and piercing green eyes. She turned and glanced at Nate, Michael and Neville, who all seemed to be transfixed.

"Hi guys, as Professor McGonagall pointed out, my name is Laurella and I will be helping you all learn to dance." She had a Newcastle accent and her voice echoed beautifully throughout the room.

"I was at Hogwarts myself when I was younger – in Gryffindor – but now I partly own a dance school for young wizards and witches near Diagon Alley." She smiled and stepped back into the shadows as McGonagall beamed and stepped forward to replace her.

"Thank you Laurella – and may I introduce to you all, Jordan Crista."

The second figure stepped forward to reveal Jordan. Hermione saw Daphne Greengrass's eyes almost pop out of her head.

'Thank you Professor." Jordan said. He had thick, blonde hair that was swept back off his face, where his features were distinct and beautiful. His eyes were a brilliant blue. Hermione was fully prepared to admit that he was extremely handsome.

"My name is Jordan and I also came to Hogwarts as a child – I was in Hufflepuff – and now I work as an events manager. Within this job, I organize and choreograph dances and events – such as the Veela display at the Quidditch World Cup. It's a pleasure to be here." He smiled and stepped back to join Laurella.

"Now, if you will find your dance partner, we will begin."


	10. Chapter 10: Touch of Bloods

**Draco's palms were cold with sweat as he continually twisted them together in his hands. His eyes had remained focus on the floor, as he had planned. Section one was complete: phase two was about to commence. But for the calm exterior he was currently displaying, he was sure that everyone could guess that he was terrified: they could most probably hear his heart beating out of his chest. **

**He had reached a break-through with occlumency that morning after reading another chapter of the book he had borrowed from the library. However, the pure scale of this problem was drastically larger than he had ever expected and he couldn't help but notice the surge of panic racing through his legs. **

_**Keep calm. **_

**He looked up: it seemed that everyone had positioned themselves with their dance partners. Daphne, who had been stood beside him a moment ago, was now blankly observing him from the other side of the room. He spotted Granger:**

_**-A dark, damp clearing – a blood-drenched body- **_

**He clicked his neck. The image vanished. He allowed a small flicker of hope to rise in him: he had been perfecting the technique all day. **

**Granger was now making her way over to him and he had to concentrate hard on not picturing her shirt covered in blood, as it had been all those weeks ago. He displayed no emotion, but acknowledged her presence. **

_**The less contact the better. **_**He thought. **

**He focused on his breathing:**

_**In, out, in, out. Good. **_

**A voice suddenly blocked his thought process: **

"**First things first: you need to master the waltz holding position. If you all turn this way Laurella and I will demonstrate." **

**The boy with the blonde hair, whose name Draco had not acknowledged, turned to face the other girl in the room. He tried not to imagine having to do the same with Granger: although he knew it was inevitable. **

**His eyes focused on the man's hand that was now placed on the girl's waist. **

_**Breathe. **_

**His other hand found hers in the air – **

_**In, out, in, out. **_

**They remained motionless: as if a picture: captured in the moment. **

"**Notice where our hands are, one of your hands in your partner's and the other on either their waist or shoulder-" the man said. **

"**So if you all want to attempt the position we will come round and help you all individually." **

**They broke away: Draco's heart started thumping, louder, louder, harder, harder, it was going to explode – **

"**Malfoy if we're going to do this we better start."**

**Her voice. The first time he had spoken to her since the World Cup, that annoying, Mudblood-stained voice-" **

_**Control the situation. **_

**Remarkably, he managed to turn his body towards her, making sure his eyes remained focused on the floor.**

"**Trust me, I don't want to be here any more than you do." He heard her say, as if she were a thousand miles away.**

_**I doubt that. **_

**She stepped forward. His heart raced. **

_**Get a grip. **_

"**Fine."**

**He had managed to utter the first word he had spoken to her since he had saved her mangled body. His first big step was done and now it was going to be easier: hope flickered inside him.**

**They stood awkwardly opposite each other and all-too-quickly it was like it had been that night: just the two of them – the Mudblood and the pureblood – captured in the wrong time and place – alone -**

**Her hand was stretching out towards him. A second later he felt her hand touch his shoulder. **

**He lowered his arm towards her waist. He had no choice. **

_**I have no choice. **_**He repeated in his head. He couldn't escape this. **

**They had come remarkably far in a little space of time.**

**Their hands were stretching out simultaneously towards each other's -**

**He felt her cold, Mudblood skin touch his own and he shivered. He had felt it before: his hands had been drenched in her blood – **

"**Draco, is it?" A voice broke his thought, his nightmare. "You just need to move your hand a little further round her waist and you need to stand closer together."**

**He felt another strange, unfamiliar hand physically move his own further round Granger's waist. They were forced to step closer. He could feel her breath on his cheeks. **

"**Perfect." The man said and he walked away: as if it had been the most easiest thing in the world. **


	11. Chapter 11: Breakings

"**Concentrate, Draco." **

**Another savage streak of light flashed across the walls of the potion master's office. **

_**- The manor, the train, people in masks – **_

**The pain in his head subsided. He was panting heavily, drenched in a cold sweat.**

"**Seeing as this is your first session with me, I'm not surprised at the…trouble…you seem to be having…however it is quite curious as to why your reaction is **_**so **_**severe. "**

**In between deep breaths Draco was formulating an answer in his mind…or perhaps it was best to remain silent…**

"**There is nothing of particular interest in your mind. You seem to have a particular tendency to constantly switch between the events of the world cup…but that isn't surprising, what with your situation…"**

**Snape smirked. Draco held his breath, his heart panting, his breathing patterns were discordant and erratic. **

"**Your father did briefly explain to me what happened that night but wished for me to further question you by using Occlumency needs…but all seems…"**

**What felt like hours passed -**

"…**Normal." **

**Draco was holding the arms of the chair he had been forced into so tightly that a small drop of blood had surfaced on his palm. He looked into the pale face of Professor Snape, the close family ally.**

"**I'm not sure what you were worrying about, Draco, your story seems to fit with the one you told your father."**

"**It wasn't a story." Draco breathed. "It's what happened."**

"**Then why so panicked? I've never seen such a severe reaction **_**during **_**the sessions, someone so restless and who seems in **_**so **_**much agony. So weak. Never."**

**His face-hardened. Draco needed to think fast…but the throbbing pain in his temple was intensifying by the second…**

"**I guess I'm different to everyone else then." He forced himself to match Snape's scorn. **

"**Perhaps." Drooled Snape. **

**Draco did not have time to react – a sudden movement, quicker than ever before blurred his vision, a streak of light pierced his eyesight, the cry of "**_**L**__**egilimens!"**_**struck him once more –**

**The scenes before him seemed blue tinted and slightly blurry**_** - there was red writing on the wall – the young, greasy-blonde-haired boy was laughing – the reflection of a pale, gaunt boy stared back at him – "Slytherin!" shouted an old brown hat – a huge, feathered beast – a broken arm – a whisp of brown, frizzy hair – "Mudblo-"**_

**He opened his eyes. The room swayed slightly, before coming back into focus. **

**Draco was motionless. Was this it? The end – he must have seen – seen what exactly he didn't know – he wasn't sure what he had seen himself – he was breathing faster now and he could feel his shirt clinging to him, the sweat further shrouding him – **

**There was a moment's silence filled with such tension Draco thought the windows might shatter if a word was spoken.**

"**You can go Draco. I will pass this session's contents onto your father; your story seems to be in order. Go." Snape's voice penetrated the silence. **

**Draco remained in the chair – Snape suddenly looked drawn and old, fragile, weak – **

"**GO!" He billowed again.**

**Draco launched himself from the chair that had held him to his memories, out of the stifling office and into the corridor beyond that seemed carefree and silent. **

**He reached the bathroom on the third floor quickly. He vomited into the basin that had once revealed the Chamber of Secrets, where people had thought **_**he **_**had been the Heir of Slytherin. **

**His head was spinning and his vision blurred as he grasped the sink tighter. **

_**It was over. For now. **_


End file.
